B01MUG7DJX EBOK

by Mathew Ortiz

  My own face hurt from grinning. I hugged Caleb close and the others came into the kitchen. My mother grinned at all the attention and we had more surprises for her. Martin, Avery and their brood stood near the fridge, Mawmaw put her smoke out and stood by Momma and Robbie, Boone. Caleb and I stood across from Momma and Bruce. Boone fished out one candle and placed it on the top of the cake, which Mawmaw lit with her ever present lighter. The happy birthday song, sung off key by all of us, was riotous and joyful. Our little family had grown in leaps in bounds over the last year and Momma couldn’t be happier about it. In short order, the cake, lemon chiffon with a lemon curd filling, was doled out and everyone tucked into a nice sized piece.

  Once everyone was fed, Avery motioned to Boone and me. He slipped out of the kitchen and Boone and I herded the family into the living room. Momma and Bruce took the couch, flanked by the kids and Mawmaw. The respective men in our lives stood behind the couch as Avery came back in with his guitar in hand and plopped down on the fireplace. Boone took his right side and I sat to his left. We had been planning and practicing for months. This birthday was special. Momma was fifty. Now, any good southerner knows, you never ask a woman her age and Momma had stopped giving hers out long before turning forty. We all knew she was fifty and she and Bruce were going on a cruise next week to celebrate the momentous day. The twang of Avery tuning his guitar brought me back and I cleared my throat.

  “Momma. We tried to figure out what to get you. You keep tellin’ us you need nuthin’, you have it all. We know we weren’t the easiest to raise. Three boys all at once? You deserve a medal for that but, instead, how about a song?”

  Momma dabbed her already wet eyes and Avery plucked an ‘A’ chord to harmonize us. The big moment… don’t fuck it up! Avery strummed the intro to the song and Boone hummed along, soft notes filled the air. Boone and Avery would harmonize to my melody and join me at the last verse. Emotion soared in my soul and I let my voice loose.

  “It’s hard to remember, Summer or Winter, when she hasn’t been there for me. A friend and companion I can always depend on, my mother, that’s who I need.

  “I’ve taken for granted, the seeds that she’s planted, she’s always behind everything. A teacher, a seeker, a both arms out-reacher, my mother, that’s who I need.

  “Wish I could slow down, the hands of time, and keep things the way they are. If she said so, I would give her the world. If I could, I would.

  “My love and my laughter, from here ever after, is all that she says she needs. A friend and companion, I can always depend on, my mother, that’s who I need. My mother, that’s who I need. That’s who I need.”

  Our voices combined, rising and falling as Avery played out the last few notes of the song. The song rang out, ended gently and I heard the intake of breath from my brothers. Avery’s hand stilled and we took in the room full of people. Martin and Caleb’s faces were streaked with tears and I saw Robbie dash away his. Mawmaw grinned like a loon, face wet with her own. I drug my gaze to Momma and she sat across from us, crying softly. Bruce held her and hugged her tight. Momma didn’t say a word. She rose, unsteady on her feet, walked over to us and knelt on the floor. Her brown eyes shone with tears as she touched each of our faces and I heard Boone sniffle and Avery’s ragged breaths. I grabbed her hand and held it tight.

  “We love ya, Momma.” My own voice was roughened by emotion. She didn’t say a word. Opening her arms, she pulled us into her warm embrace and we fell into it like a trio of five-year-olds. Words weren’t needed.

  Chapter 5

  Caleb

  "Good evening, all. I’m Caleb and I’m a survivor of abuse. My ex-boyfriend used me as a punching bag, both verbally and physically. After he was done, I didn’t think I would be able open myself up, emotionally, to any man, ever again. Trust issues and all. So, imagine my surprise when I met a genuinely nice guy. I keep waiting for him to lose his temper with me and hit me. He hasn’t. Each day is getting better and I am trusting him more and more. I want to believe he’s different. I’m feeling stronger as the weeks turn into months. I really want this to be different, but I’m terrified of being hurt again and I’m afraid I’ll never, not be afraid.”

  *

  A mess. I’m a complete blubbering mess!

  I had no idea Cotton and his brothers were planning to sing to their mother. I didn’t even know Cotton could sing. I stood quietly by as Avery’s nimble fingers strummed out a tune and Cotton sang. He sang most of the song, with Boone and Avery harmonizing and it was stunning. Cotton’s twang enriched the words and raised them up. The song celebrated their mother, their love for her and when they were done, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. I envied Cotton and his brothers. Their love for their mother shone like the North Star. I didn’t have that kind of relationship with my own mother. Where someone loves you utterly. I know she loves me in her own way, but she has too many conditions. The song spoke volumes and I jealously coveted it. Casting away those negative emotions, I padded over to Cotton as he stood up, disengaging himself from his family. I took his hand, leaned in and kissed his lips softly.

  “You never cease to amaze me, Cotton Myer,” I whispered and he swallowed hard. I hugged him and he sagged in my embrace. Even strong men had a soft side and I had definitely seen his.

  “Thanks, Caleb,” he murmured and held me close. I worried my lower lip. I was falling for this man. Broken, but not beaten. Flawed, but human. Strong, but gentle, this man had wormed his way into my heart. Damn.

  *

  The rest of the evening had been magical and, when he dropped me off at my place, I was sure he wanted to come in. Instead, he gave me a toe-curling kiss and left me horny and confused. I called Mikey. Mistake number one.

  “And he didn’t want you to bend over and get slipped some country cock?”

  “No.”

  “Suck the cream from his Twinkie?”

  “No!”

  “Handy J?”

  “No!”

  “Sorry to tell you, bro. But he has a micro penis,” Mikey said solemnly.

  “He most certainly does not! I felt it.” That bought me silence for a few seconds.

  “Then don’t be such a puss and grab it next time.”

  “You are so crass.”

  “And you didn’t get any dick,” Mikey drawled and I agreed with him.

  “What should I do to ensure on our next date I’ll… uh…”

  “Get a cock up your rosebud?” I lost it and nearly drowned on the tea I was sipping. Coughing, I set my cup down and wiped my mouth with my napkin.

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “First, wear a tight shirt. It shows off your nipples. Second, no underwear, it hides your junk. And if all else fails, pre-lube your hole, take him into the restaurant’s bathroom, set him on the shitter and sit on that fuck stick of his.”

  “On that note, I’m hanging up!” Mistake number two had been asking him for advice.

  “Remember, use silicon lube. It lasts for hours! And douche well. No one wants a Nutella and banana moment.” He hawed and I knew my face was red.

  “Goodbye, Mikey!”

  “Call me when you Tom Toss him!” I hung up and wondered what in the hell he was talking about. Knowing his love of Urban Dictionary, I looked it up. After my mouth clapped shut, I nearly choked on my own laughter. My brother was a nasty little shit.

  The next week at work, I was finishing up my application for the oversea runs. Sure enough, two spots had opened up so Annie and I scrambled to apply. I wanted this job so badly, I could taste it. Not only was it a better job, there was also an increase in pay. But, if I got the job, it would mean I’d be gone for longer stretches and I questioned whether I wanted that. More time away meant less time with Cotton. I think, he could be, you know, the guy. The one that might go further than a few dates. I’d dropped off my application and stowed my uniform when Bess, our main receptionist, poked her head into the locker room.

  “Caleb. You have visitors.”
She sounded odd.

  “Visitors?”

  “I have them in conference room B. They insisted on seeing you.”

  I slammed my locker shut and followed Bess to the conference room. Opening the door, I walked in and my mouth dried instantly. Them!

  The woman got up from the chair she sat in and strode toward me. She exuded confidence from her perfectly tailored grey suit and upswept brown hair, to her Chanel shoes. She extended her hand and I shook it limply, my insides quaking.

  “Alistair Jaspers?” Like steel wrapped in silk, her tone brooked no prevarication.

  “It’s Caleb. Caleb Jaspers.” I cringed at the crack in my voice.

  “Penelope Venture. D.A. You know Detective Wirzbowski.” She gestured to the dark imposing man still seated.

  Of course I knew Wirzbowski. He was the lead detective handling Robert’s case and had interviewed me months ago. I hadn’t given him much more than the basics and had steadfastly refused to cooperate. He’d left angry and disappointed. I’d been left ashamed and humiliated.

  “Caleb.” He jerked his chin at me and I nodded. Mike Wirzbowski cut a handsome figure. Well over six-feet, his dark, black/brown hair fell into a perfect cop cut and he sported a few day’s scruff. It was his eyes… black eyes… that made me shiver. It was as if he could see deep into my soul.

  “Since you refused to return my calls,” Venture said conversationally as she walked back to her seat. “I decided to come to you.”

  I sighed heavily and sat down across from them. My stomach rolled and acrid fluid crept up the back of my throat. I didn’t want to do this.

  “Let me put all my cards on the table, Mr. Jaspers,” she said, pinning me with her steely gaze. “Davenport and his team have somehow cowed one of my witnesses. The other two are on shaky ground due to past drug use and previous convictions. I am, to put it mildly, desperate. You are one of two men I have personally sought out to ask you to reconsider testifying. I did have two others, but it would seem they suddenly came into a lot of money and decided to move out of the country. I can’t make them testify, any more than I can you, but I will tell you this; if I can’t provide stronger witnesses, Robert Davenport is going to walk away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. I’ve already visited the first man and now I’m here asking you to please reconsider. You’re my aces in the hole. You and Robert were a couple for almost half a year and, from what I can gather from hospital records, you were in and out of the emergency room multiple times.”

  “That information is confidential!” I balked at the intrusiveness of it all.

  “I subpoenaed the City of Hope and obtained your records.” Her gaze softened and so did her voice. “Caleb, I read the charts. He beat you, badly. Records indicate multiple broken bones, lacerations and… you were treated for anal trauma three times. And—”

  “Stop it! Shut up! Shut up! Shut. Up!” I screamed. The pounding of blood in my ears made my head ache.

  “Caleb. I’ve been following this degenerate motherfucker for over four years. Do you know what happened to some of his ‘boys’? One is in a group home after a nervous breakdown and attempted suicide. Another did kill himself. Gunshot to the temple. Another ran away from his family and hasn’t been seen since. Christ, Caleb, the boy was only sixteen-years-old when he met Davenport. Sixteen! I know he hurt you and I can understand—”

  “No, you can’t understand!” The chair screeched as I stood abruptly “You. Can’t. What he did to me… what I let him do was an abomination. He controlled every aspect of my life. He hurt me over and over again, and I let him. I was and still am, so ashamed that I let this happen to me and I don’t want anyone to know. Not even my family, save for my brother, know and I plan to keep it that way. I won’t testify. I won’t.” I turned my back to them. “Please go. I have nothing more to say.”

  They got up and walked toward the door. The D.A. looked grim and Wirzbowski’s face held a deep frown. I hugged myself as they walked out and thought I was in the clear until Mike stopped short and gave me a hard, knowing stare.

  “The boy who ran away…,” he said softly. “We found him dead a few months later. He’d been selling himself down on the OBT (Orange Blossom Trail) in Orlando. A john killed him. The only thing he had on him was a photo of his family. On the back, he’d written: I’m sorry, please forgive me. How many more boys must suffer Caleb? How many?”

  Shaking his head, he left me to my nightmares.

  *

  I’d thought being abused by Robert was my biggest shame… until today. I am a total coward. I’m so worried what my father and mother will think, what their friends will think, that I am willing to let a rapist walk free, all to save face. The months I spent with Robert had been the worst of my life. Up ’til then, I’d falsely thought I had my life together. I had a good job, a nice home… everything in place. Yet, less than a year with Robert had nearly derailed my career… my life. I wanted to shout to the world that he was a degenerate and a morally bankrupt human. I really did. And then my mother’s words from my childhood came back to haunt me. Stiff upper lip, control yourself and don’t air the family’s dirty laundry for all to see.

  D.A. Venture and Detective Wirzbowski had reached out to me and tried to sway me but I’d refused. I’d refused to listen. Refused to acknowledge my past. I didn’t want people’s pity or their flippant remarks. I couldn’t abide that.

  By the time I’d clocked out, I needed a stiff drink, so I walked to a pub in the terminal to get away from the ugliness I’d just endured. Inside, I found a corner and hid, motioning to the waitress for a drink. Bored and exhausted looking, the woman took my order and reappeared a few minutes later with my scotch and soda. I barely acknowledged her leaving before downing a healthy swig. The burn of the scotch made my eyes water and I coughed once, clearing my newly raw throat. The amber liquid shimmered in the light and I swirled it, watching the lights bounce of it.

  My phone beeped and, with a flick of my wrist, I saw a text from Cotton. How was it possible to be both excited and horrified at the same time? Any time he texted me, my heart skipped a beat. However, after today, I am horrified—no, not the right word—terrified. I’m terrified to tell him everything about my past.

  I was so wrapped up in my own painful world, I didn’t notice the man approach my table. He was maybe a few years older than me, stood about my height, 5’11ish with wavy blond hair and soft grey-blue eyes. Attractive and fit, he garnered a few appreciative stares from other patrons. He stared down at me expectantly and, irritated, I spoke first.

  “May I help you?” Snotty—yes. Tired—yes. Manners—out the fucking door.

  “Hi, my name is Alex King,” he said politely. “Mike told me you were here, Caleb. He asked me to talk to you.” His soft tones soothed me even as his words inflamed my temper.

  “The bloody cheek of that man. No offense, Mr. King, but I’m not interested in talking about Robert Davenport IV with him, the D.A. or you.” I kept my voice low, not wanting to attract attention. King smiled sympathetically, pulled out a chair and sat down opposite me.

  “Fine. Then let me do the talking. We have something in common, or should I say someone—Robert Davenport.” I started to protest and he held up his hands, indicating for me to let him finish. “I met Robert several years ago, during my initial months here in Atlanta. He had it all: charm, money, a hotter than fuck body and he wanted me. Me! Simple, plain Alex King and I was sure he was screwing with me. So, for the first few months I put him off, which only made him more interested. Here is where my story differs from what I’ve told my fiancé, Emmett. When Robert and Lily came to visit me in Tatesville, I originally thought it was only Lily. She’d been a drinking buddy of mine and we’d hit it off. Unfortunately, Robert came with her, like some codependent Will and Grace, and not in a funny or cute way. I pretended to be happy but inside I was in agony.” He wrung his hands and paled beneath his tan. The bob of his Adam’s apple let me know how anxious he was. “You see, months b
efore I moved to Tatesville, I had, according to my version for Emmett, hooked up with a guy, who was strung out on drugs and, in the middle of sex, he beat the shit out of me. That’s not the whole truth. What happened was that Robert came over to my apartment under the guise of visiting and… and…”

  He stopped. Fat tears dropped from his eyes and his whole body shook. On instinct, I reached out to grab his hand, only to have him hold on tight. His fingers were clammy, cold and clenched mine over and over.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. I had to come clean with my future husband. I love Emmett so much and I had to tell him the whole thing. My shame. My dirty secret.” He sucked up a breath and squared his shoulders. “Robert raped me. He beat me senseless and, as I lay there on the floor of my living room, he raped me again. Everything was pain… God so much pain. I begged, pleaded with him to stop. It only inflamed him, made it worse. I shut up and I think I went blank. I don’t remember much of the detail, but it seemed to go on forever. I prayed to God for death. To just let me die, but I didn’t. He finished up, got off me, zipped his pants and left. Nothing said. No, ‘I’m sorry’. Not even a ‘you deserved it’. Just nothing. I lay there, bleeding from my asshole, covered in his sweat and cum, wanting to die.”

  My own hands shook with his. His story mirrored mine in so many ways. “Mr. King—”

  “Alex,” he whispered. “Please, call me Alex.”

  “Alex. What happened? How—did you—?”

  “I lay, days later in my apartment, in my tub, with a straight razor poised over my left wrist. I wanted to end it all. He used me… destroyed my sense of self. Made me less of a man, in my eyes.”

  “Obviously, you’re here, so you didn’t go through with it,” I offered and he gave me a hollow smile.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t. It would have been so easy to go to sleep and not think about what had happened to me. To stop the pain. Stop the dreams. But I didn’t. I think part of me, the small irrational part of me he hadn’t touched, rebelled and fought back. If I died, he would win. I couldn’t let him, but I wasn’t brave enough to come forward until the case became front page news. That and, when he came with Lily to visit me, he tried to hurt me again. Only the timely intervention by Detective Wirzbowski and my best friend Hale stopped him. Since then, I’ve been giving Mike all the Intel he could use on Robert. From the safety of Tatesville.”